


Making me sick

by jatkojohto



Category: South Park
Genre: 20-something is both of their ages yeah, Dips in dubcon for a bit, Emetophilia, M/M, Not much but got to tag it, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26614177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jatkojohto/pseuds/jatkojohto
Summary: During particularly bad hangover Stan persuades Kyle into helping him throw up.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	Making me sick

**Author's Note:**

> It’s a puke fic. That’s about it. Yep.

One…two…

Knuckles white Stan clutches his left hand on the rim of toilet seat and shoves the right one into his mouth for the fifth time this morning. His fingernails barely scrape the back of his throat before he’s quickly pulling them out again, overwhelmed with feeling sick to his very core. Heart hammers in his chest as Stan grabs fistful of his hair, twisting and pulling it in frustration.

“Coward” he spits out, glaring down at the water on bottom of the filthy toilet he was supposed to scrub clean two weeks ago “Just do it”

“Wasn’t that some big company’s slogan or something?”

Stan turns his head to look at Kyle standing in the doorway. There’s no judgement in the air this time, Stan suspects the fresh tear stains on his face make him look pitiful enough that Kyle made a conscious decision to spare him from it.

“What?” He asks weakly. Kyle shrugs.

“Telling people to just do it. Like, what the hell they wanted us to do? Cheat on our spouses? Rob a bank? It’s just like that bullshit advice to just be yourself, there’s always some asshole who uses that as an excuse to be dipshit.” He continues as he walks over to Stan and kneels down with a glass in his hand. “Anyway, I got you some water”

His tone softens as he hands him the glass and the realization makes Stan’s eyes grow blurry again. He brushes them off with the palm of his hand before taking it with a quiet thank you. Kyle watches him gulp it down in one go as he makes himself comfortable on the hard tile floor right next to Stan.

“That phrase was one of nike’s campaigns” Stan says thickly when he finishes, putting the glass on the floor “I remember seeing a lot of it when I went to visit their headquarters”

“Oh yeah? Well, it’s better slogan than ‘stan your ground’ at least. That intentional typo used to piss me off so much”

“Man, almost everything pissed you off when we were kids”

“With a good reason”

“Yeah well, it’s not like anyone sees it anymore anyway, they dropped me faster than a hot potato when I became controversial” Stan mutters “Let’s just stop talking about this, being hated sucked. Dude, can you tell me why is it always just me suffering the next morning every time we go out to drink? Do you have some kind of trick to avoid this?”

A smug smile crawls its way onto Kyle’s mouth. “It’s this cool thing called stopping before you’re shitfaced”

Stan elbows him half-heartedly. The smugness doesn’t disappear.

“Bad hangover huh?”

“The worst kind” Stan answers bitterly, turning to stare into depths of toilet once again, “I feel like I’m about to hurl any second, but nothing comes out. I’ve been sitting here like…” He tries to estimate when he got there but gives up soon after, instead finishing with a question “Can you believe this shit?”

“Makes sense, it’s kind of last resort cleansing thing anyway”

“No way I’m spending rest of today hugging toilet in case it suddenly decides to come up, I just want to get it over with” Stan swallows “But I…I can’t do it. Even when I’m forcing it. I keep freaking out” He then slowly turns to look at his friend with pleading eyes and Kyle gets a sinking feeling “Kyle, I’m asking this as a friend, as a super best friend….”

“Jesus Stan I just wanted to check if you’re alright” Kyle says with a grimace as he’s leaning away.

“Don’t shoot me down before hearing me out” Stan protests with fidget, “Please dude, I beg you. Help me.”

“What do you even want me to do?”

“I don’t know, gross me out? Stick your fingers down my throat?”

“Gross”

“Oh yeah? Remember when I watered your crops for you in facebook? I didn’t want to, but I did it anyway because I’m your friend.”

Kyle looks at him in disbelief. “Out of all the things you’ve done for me over the years you choose that as bargain chip. You really hate facebook don’t you”

“Zuckerberg can eat my ass”

“This isn’t really how I planned to spend my morning”

“Oh come on” Stan goads “Is it because you find it gross? You’ve done grosser things. Remember when you were going to suck on Cartman’s balls? Being all like, let’s just get this over with “

“Eugh”

“Or when you drank a glass of pee in a waterpark? What about that time with Apple--”

“Okay fine I got your point, stop fucking reminding me about this stuff” Kyle’s words are scathing. He takes a moment to compose himself before speaking again, looking as if it was him who was going to barf if Stan kept talking “Sorry, just. Don’t ever bring up that experiment to me again, please”

Stan shrugs helplessly “Just putting it into perspective. There are nastier things than getting some vomit on your hand”

“Right” Kyle mutters. He looks up at the ceiling like he can’t believe it himself either what he’s about to say. “Fine, I’ll help you.” He finally says and feels a tiny tug in his heartstrings when Stan perks up visibly. “Let’s go with forcing gag reflex ‘cause I’m not going through google images for mauled animals today.”

Stan makes a face. “Urgh. Good call, worst case scenario I don’t even puke and then just feel sad the whole day on top of this crap”

“Yeah. Let me just wash my hands first” Kyle stands up and makes his way towards the sink. Stan watches him rinse his hands thoroughly and only then does it occur to him that he could’ve done that too before putting fingers down his own throat. The uncomfortable thought of having carelessly transferred shit bacteria into his mouth makes his skin crawl in disgust. He decides not to think about it anymore when Kyle sits down again.

“So… I’m probably going to freak out again but don’t mind it. Just keep your hand there until I get it all out?”

“Okay, but if I hear complaining afterwards it’s on you”

“Just how bitchy do you think I am?” Stan asks, mildly offended. Kyle makes a show of giving the question throughout pondering before answering with utmost seriousness.

“The usual Stan amount”

“Yeah?” Stan squints at him. “What amount is that?”

“It’s Cartman minus Craig times Ike on a good day. On a bad day…Add all the goth kids to the end”

“...Fucking nerd, you had that comeback prepared”

“Maybe, maybe not. Anyway, how do I…” Kyle then says, putting them back on track. He gestures at Stan who shrugs, unsure.

“Just sit behind me, I guess?”

Kyle hesitates briefly before scooting closer, his bottom dragging along the floor like Sparky used to do with itchy butt and the comparison makes Stan chuckle a little. Kyle quirks a brow but doesn’t ask as he settles behind his friend, straightening his legs on both sides of him. “Lean back a little?”

Stan complies, his back leans against Kyle whose hand now easily reaches around him, blindly gauging the right angle as his fingertips brush Stan’s chin. His warm breath against the nape of Stan’s neck sends creeping tingles along his spine. Only then does it cross his mind how intimately he’s asked Kyle to be with him.

“Alright then” Kyle mutters, “Here comes the airplane” his monotone tone combined with a low ‘brrr’ has Stan go _hah_ before a fist with vaguely soapy taste makes its way in. Distant memories of lying on the dentist chair and having the rough handed assistant stretching his mouth wide open as dentist operated on his gaping cavity return to mind and he thinks the anxiety his body feels is mostly muscle memory from that time. His jaw clunks audibly.

“Dude, you should go get that checked”

Stan simply grunts in response and Kyle shrugs, pressing forward on his tongue “My nails are kind of getting long, just a heads up”

“Ha donh care, jus do eht puhhy”

“Don’t call me a pussy” Kyle huffs before shoving extended fingers to the back of Stan’s throat. Feeling the sharp impact on his uvula has Stan wince but true to his promise Kyle doesn’t pay attention to it, curling his fingers instead downwards and pressing them on the back of his tongue.

Stan gags, his body lurches forward but nothing comes out.

“For a guy who used to puke all over Wendy you have a shitty gag reflex” Kyle states as he shifts to sit more comfortably that he’s resting his chin against Stan’s shoulder “Just relax or something, I don’t know. It’s not going to come out if you’re tensing up”

“Haim hying” he groans and flinches as digits get shoved deeper into his mouth. The muscles on his jaw are starting to ache around the hand as he dry heaves over and over again. Drool dribbles at the side of his mouth grossly down his chin and he’s glad Kyle’s keeping any thoughts he has of Stan being a disgusting sight private. As his eyes, mouth and nose all leak fluids down his face Stan appreciates, if only a little, that there’s a warm presence behind him, even as the sensation of hard nails brushing uncomfortably against the soft mucous membrane at the back of his mouth is the price he has to pay for it.

“There there” Kyle mutters to his ear as Stan sniffs, too weary to retort that he doesn’t need stupid comfort, that the tears aren’t from anguish, it’s just his body being a reluctant bitch.

Yet he still leans into the touch.

“Hm. Maybe I’m doing this wrong” Kyle says after a while when all Stan’s coughed up is some slimy spit. “Dude I…Can I try something?”

Stan makes a noise of agreement, he’s ready to give it one more shot. He’d been ready to resign to the fact that he’d just have to deal with his hangover the old-fashioned way. Just dealing with it.

“...Sorry buddy.” Kyle says with a swallow and if hadn’t been asked not to complain before, Stan would’ve told him off later for lying to his face, because somebody unwilling wouldn’t be so forceful.

Movement at the back of his mouth is so much worse than having constant pressure there, Stan finds. But it’s what finally triggers his resistant gag reflex.

Stomach acid scorches the inside of Stan’s throat as the bile forces its way up. Kyle pushes his head into the bowl and soon he’s hurling his last night’s meal into the toilet and all over Kyle’s hand. It has the consistency and color of liquid porridge that mixes into the water below. Stan shudders, cold sweat clinging to his forehead as he gasps for air, but his body keeps exhaling only burps. Preoccupied with stabilizing he doesn’t pay much attention to the stillness behind him, or the shallow breaths of Kyle in the middle of personal crisis.

Swallowing thickly Stan’s hand shakily reaches for Kyle’s wrist so that he’d know to move away. He is done with this, they finally did it, yippee. But Kyle gives him a jolt, his grip on the short black hair tightening when he’s making Stan puke again. Fresh batch of tears squeeze out of his ducts as he ends up coughing up only a small amount of bitter bile still left in his stomach, the sour taste leaving a lingering aftertaste on his taste-buds.

Kyle removes his slimy hand slowly and lets go of the hair. Stan slumps heaving against the toilet seat, resting his forehead onto his arm that he puts across the rim. He spits down to get rid of the excess saliva in his mouth and moans like a ghost of a sailor’s wife who never did get to see her true love again. The smell of sludge below is making his nose hairs shrivel up, yet Stan can’t be bothered to get up and flush just yet.

Kyle moves swiftly away from Stan, settling back next to him. He reaches out to un-scroll some paper from the toilet roll hanging on the wall as Stan keeps tiredly staring at the mess he’s conjured.

“Feel better?” Kyle asks thickly, wiping his hand before quickly crossing his fingers down on his lap.

“…No” Stan groans. His face is pale as he weakly turns his head to look at Kyle. There’s a weird flush on his face but Stan doesn’t ask. He feels like shit and isn’t up to hearing Kyle’s complaining about the floor heating on his bathroom being too high. He knew it himself too, just couldn’t figure out how to change it “Was a mistake”

“Well it worked though, that’s what’s important” Kyle replies with a strain “I helped you”

“Sure” Stan mutters “I guess.”

And that is that. Kyle leaves his apartment soon after, telling Stan he has an assignment to write, but his transparent act of normalcy is a telltale sign of what’s going on with him. They’ve known each other for so many years that both of them can sense when there’s something other wants to say. Yet, as time and time again these moments come, they choose to stay quiet. No matter what it is. And nothing ever changes.

But as Stan goes to sleep that night, he has to confront the creeping realization that he might have unwittingly awakened a new fetish in his best friend. Stan’s face scrunches up as he thinks about what his apparent lack of discomfort over that thought implies.

“God damnit.”


End file.
